


Baby One More Time

by Castielific



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Babysitting, Crack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cursed Stiles, Cute Stiles, De-Aged Stiles, Derek as a babysitter, Funny, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, post-3B, toddler!Stiles, wee!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielific/pseuds/Castielific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is turned into a three years old. The Sheriff forces Derek to "babysit". Neither Stiles nor Derek are happy about that, but it could be worse. Maybe. Well, the jury is still out on that one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something cute and funny to pass the time as you wait for the next chapter of Frozen Inside. 
> 
> I hope you'll have a good time reading ;-)

The Sheriff stops abruptly when he enters his living room. The Lahey kid is sitting on his couch. It's weird enough as it is because, to his memory, Isaac has never even been to his house and – from all his complaining - Stiles doesn't even like him. What is even more suspicious is that the teen is obviously avoiding his gaze. He could see him tense up as soon as he entered the room, but after a short little wave, Isaac has apparently decided the coffee table is a fascinating thing to look at.

John has a weird feeling. He's a cop, he has good instincts and those are telling him that something is wrong here. Flashbacks of nogitsune and seeing his son prisoner of his own body come to mind and the Sheriff suddenly feels dread settle in his stomach.

Scott chooses this moment to enter the room. John must look pale because the teen immediately approaches him, hands in front of him like he wants to catch the older man's fall.

  
“Where's my son?”

  
Scott grimaces and the Sheriff suddenly feels lightheaded. Maybe it's a good thing that Scott is ready to catch him because his knees feel a little weak at the moment.

  
“No, no!” Scott exclaims, placing a hand on the Sheriff's shoulder. “He's okay!”

  
The Sheriff takes a deep breath, the relief he feels making him able to breath again.

  
“Well...” Scott continues with a grimace. John knows that face. It's Scott's guilt face. He's known the kid since he was a toddler and that face never bodes well.

  
“What is it, Scott?”

  
“He's… ” Scott hesitates, searching for words.

  
“Dad?”

  
It takes a few seconds for the Sheriff to realize that he's the one being called because that is not his son's voice. He looks over Scott's shoulder, in the direction of the new voice, but there's nothing there.

  
A tugging on the bottom of his trousers makes him look down and...

  
“Oh hell!” The Sheriff can't help but exclaim. “What the hell did you do now?”

  
It's been a while since he's seen that face, over 14 or 15 years, but the Sheriff does recognize his son when he sees him. And that toddler with big amber eyes and rosy cheeks? That's definitively his kid.

  
Stiles’ face crunches up in an indignant frown that doesn't go with his babyish features.

  
“It wasn't even my fault!” He replies, flailing his arms. He's only wearing a T-shirt ten sizes too big and his arms somewhat catch the edge of the sleeve, sweeping the shirt under the boy’s feet and making Stiles fall on his ass. The Sheriff has the reflexes to crouch to help the baby before he remembers that it's not a toddler, it's his seventeen year old son.

  
“I need a drink,” he declares, going straight for the kitchen. He hears the Lahey kid laughing behind him as Stiles yells at Scott  “I can do it myself!” before another thump marks the sound of his son's ass landing on the floor again.

  
**********************************

To be fair, it wasn't Stiles' fault.

Really.

Seriously!

He had gone out for ice cream, that's about his only offense. That and helping an old woman. He can't be blame for being a gentleman, can he?

The fact that that old woman was apparently some kind of witch has to do with Stiles' bad luck rather than any bad decision he could have made.

One thing he knew he was smiling politely at the old woman as she thanked him and went on about how his soul looked so much older than his age or whatever. To be honest, he was convinced she was senile and wasn't really listening to her talk about youth and innocence and god-knows-what-else. She'd touched his cheek in a way that gave Stiles goosebumps before saying her goodbyes.

Except maybe it wasn't goosebumps as much as magic because half an hour later he found himself in the body of a three year old....which may sound creepier than it is since it was his own body, just fourteen years younger.

He had a panic attack thinking that the nogitsune was back and making him hallucinate again, but two hours passed and nothing else happened. He was still sitting on the ground in this tiny body. If that was a nogitsune's hallucination, it was the most boring one so far.

He called Scott who freaked out and arrived so fast that he must have literally run there, probably on all fours too. Isaac was trailing behind him and just burst out laughing when he saw Stiles.

For the record, Isaac is an asshole.

Scott called Deaton who was certain that the nogitsune had nothing to do with this, that he was dead and wasn’t going to come back. They both could breathe easier after that.

Now, three hours later, they are still no closer to understanding what the hell happened, but Stiles is still three feet tall and getting really pissed that Isaac is mocking him.

  
“I swear if you don't stop laughing I'm gonna shove mountain ash down your throat,” Stiles threatens, but Isaac doesn't seem impressed as Stiles keeps trying to pull up the sleeve of his T-shirt that keeps falling over his hands. Tiny fingers are a nightmare for dexterity though and his shirt keeps falling over his shoulder, threatening to fall down entirely. This whole thing is humiliating enough without him being naked, thank you very much.

  
He jumps when Scott crouches next to him but hold up his arms obligingly when his best friend wraps his own belt around Stiles' chest (three times) to help hold up the tee.

  
“Thanks, bro.”

  
“This is so weird,” Scott says, staring at him. “No baby should talk like you do, it's...weird.”

  
“And how is studying for the SAT going?” Stiles says, mocking his friend's lack of vocabulary.

  
“Are you-” His dad says, coming back to the living room with a confused face and a tumbler of whiskey. He stops though, looking Stiles over before rolling his eyes. “I don't even want to...,” he starts to mumble before going back the way he came.

   
“I should talk to him, shouldn't I?” Stiles says, worrying about his dad's sanity. Which, honestly is doing better than he would have thought giving all the weird shit he's been making his dad live through.

  
“Probably,” Scott confirms.

  
******************************************

  
“It's a trap!” Stiles immediately screams when they arrive at Deaton's and the girls start cooing at him. Their faces changed as soon as they saw him and now they're just looking at him with those big smiles and emitting the weird noises that people generally make when they see a kitten.

  
He flails, trying to repel them before they pinch his cheeks, but Kira still manages to ruffle his hair.

  
“What are they doing here?”

  
“I've sent them pictures,” Isaac says with a smirk.

   
Stiles wonders if a kick in the shin would hurt him. He tries, but the werewolf doesn't even flinch and that's just unfair.

   
“You're so cute!” Kira exclaims and when she tries to approach him again he runs to hide behind Scott...who tries to pick him up, the traitor, so Stiles runs the other way. Derek doesn't move an inch when Stiles slips behind him.

  
“You need to get on the exam table!” Scott says, trying to defend his actions. Stiles knows better, Scott is as bad as the girls and, even though he keeps saying that it's weird, he has tried to pick up Stiles like he's a baby five times already. Five!

Stiles won't stand for this. He's not a baby and he won't let anyone...He blinks when he suddenly finds himself lifted up on the examination table. He sends a glare to Derek who ignores him, turning toward Deaton.

  
“What could have done this?” The werewolf asks. And yeah, right, serious situation, serious talk time.

   
“A number of things could be responsible for what happened to young Stiles here,” Deaton says, as helpful as ever.

  
Stiles sighs, sitting on the edge of the table, feet kicking in the air. He gives Deaton the stink eye when he approaches him with a stethoscope, but lets him do his thing.

   
“It seems that Stiles now possesses the body of a healthy toddler,” Deaton says once he’s finished a basic examination.

  
Stiles shivers at the word “possesses” and decides that he's going to ban this word from his vocabulary. And his friends’. In fact, that word should be erased from every dictionary until only old people remember that it even existed.

  
“I would say around two and a half, maybe three years old. Although it seems like he still possesses all of his mental faculties, which is unusual,” Deaton says... continuing to be unhelpful.

  
Stiles just scowls as that word is used again. He hears Kira's soft “awww” and glares at her instead, which just makes her coo more, damn it.

   
“Did anything unusual happen that could be responsible for this?” Deaton asks, scratching his goatee.

  
“It might have been a witch? I mean there was this old woman, she said some things about my age, then touched me and a few moments later, poof!” Stiles finishes, gesturing at his body.

   
“You messed with witches?” Derek accuses.

   
“I didn’t mess with anyone, I just helped her with her groceries! Why does everyone always assume it’s my fault?”

  
“Because it generally is?”

   
“You’re one to talk!”

  
“You-”

   
“It’s definitively caused by some sort of magic,” Deaton interrupts. “I'll try to contact some of my sources to find out if they know of any witch in the whereabouts of Beacon Hills, or if they ever encountered a case similar to this one,” Deaton finally announces.

  
“What should we do in the meantime?” Scott asks.

  
“Well, I would suggest trying to find some appropriate clothes, for one,” Deaton says with a smirk toward Stiles' huge shirt. The girls start cooing again, starting to talk about what cute baby clothes they should buy him and Stiles is just done with this day.

   
He jumps back though, when he sees Scott approaching him with his arms held up.

   
“Stop doing that!”

   
“But you can't get down from there on your own!” Scott says, looking peeved that Stiles keeps rejecting him.

   
“Watch me!”

   
Stiles goes determinedly to the edge of the table and...okay, that didn't seem as high when he wasn't three feet tall. He kneels, back to the edge and tries hanging a leg in the air and nope nope nope, the ground is way too far he realizes as he loses his balance.

  
In the next second, he's hanging horizontal in the air. Derek having caught him by the belt wrapped around his waist before he could hit the ground, he’s just dangling in the air like a common handbag.

“Let me go!” Stiles says, swinging  his hands and feet and wow this is kind of cool actually. He feels like he's Superman or something. He's just about to assume a stereotypically heroic position when Derek drops him on the ground. Literally drops him. Who even drops babies?

   
He sends a glare over his shoulder but Derek just shrugs.

   
“You asked me to let you go.”

 

***********************************

He doesn't know whether it was a wise choice to let the girls go shopping for him, but he figures he could still find some decent clothes among the ridiculous things they're going to buy him.

   
To be honest, he's too exhausted to go with them. He just wants to go to bed and sleep until he's himself again. Who knows, maybe tomorrow he'll be cured, right?

   
“Are you sure you don't want me to stay?” Scott asks for the tenth time as they're driving back to the Stilinski household. Stiles is sitting in the backseat – which is ridiculous, he's seventeen! - but Scott wouldn't relent. But now Stiles is trying to hide the fact that he's actually dozing.

  
“Yeah, I'm gonna be okay,” he mumbles, swiping his eyes with his fists.

  
“You're-”

  
“Yes, Scott, I'm sure.”

   
“Okay,” Scott says, sounding dejected. “We're here.”

  
Stiles reflexively tries to look through the window, but it's way too high and all he can see is the sky. Scott comes to open his door and Stiles doesn't even have the energy to stop him when he reaches out to help him get out of the car.

Sensing his weakness, Scott takes the opportunity to hold him up and settle him on his hip with a huge grin. Scott has always loved kids. Every times he sees a baby, he's like an excited puppy and he would give a kidney just to hold a small child for a few minutes.

  
“Boy, I'm wiped out,” Stiles says, letting his too heavy head fall on his friend's shoulder. It only last a few seconds though, before he grimaces and look up at Scott who is making about the same face as him. “Yep, too weird.”

  
“Definitively too weird,” Scott says before deposing Stiles on the ground.

  
“But the door is so far,” Stiles whines, because with his little legs the driveway look like it's miles long.

  
Scott makes a thinking noise before crouching.

  
“Hop on my back?”

  
“You're awesome!” Stiles exclaims, jumping on his friend's back.

 

*****************************

The Sheriff carries him to his bedroom – so many stairs!- and somehow it's not as weird as with Scott. His dad's expression seems softer somehow, like he's enjoying this jump into the past, so Stiles doesn't protest when he tucks him in and kisses his forehead before saying goodnight.

 

*****************************

 

“I don't need a babysitter!” Stiles protests. Loudly.

  
“Listen, kid, I know you think you don't, but I can't leave you alone. It just feels...wrong,” the Sheriff tries to explain. “I have to go to work though, because saying that I have to babysit my seventeen year old son isn't gonna float.”

  
Stiles crosses his arm over his chest, pouting.

  
“I can take care of myself.”

  
“You spilled the orange juice because the bottle was too heavy, Stiles.”

  
“I won't try to drink orange juice then!”

  
“It's too late anyway, I've already made a call.”

  
“What?! Come on, dad, you know Scott can't miss anymore school if he doesn't want to fail his classes!”

  
“I know. That's why I didn't call Scott,” the Sheriff says reasonably.

  
The doorbell chooses this moment to chime and his dad goes to open the door, revealing Derek with a scowl on his face and about twenty shopping bags in his hands.

  
“Oh hell no!” Stiles exclaims.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Samantha for the beta work! You're awesome!
> 
> And thank you for all the comments and kudos. I had tons of fun writing this story and I'm very excited about sharing it with you!

“Why did you even accept?” Stiles asks while opening one of the bags of clothes the girls had apparently dropped off at this house this morning.  
  


“If your dad asked me, I figured he didn't have any other choice,” Derek says, shrugging.  
  


“Point,” Stiles says before grimacing at the bright orange overalls the girls bought him, immediately throwing it in the 'nope' pile. So far all he had on the 'might try it on' pile was a batman T-shirt. “He does like you though. Don't ask me why, but he does.”  
  


“I don't know, maybe the whole 'saving his son's life' helped a little,” Derek suggests sarcastically.  
  


“Nah. I'm pretty sure it's because you like the same baseball team,” Stiles says with a sly grin.  
  


Derek blinks at him a few times.  
  


“Jesus,” he murmurs, shaking his head a little.  
  


“What is it?”  
  


“It's just...,” he makes a gesture toward Stiles.  
  


“Weird?”  
  


“Yeah. You look like a toddler, but you speak like...it's very disturbing.”  
  


“Tell me about it. You look like a giant from over here.”  
  


Derek scoffs.  
  


“Oh yes!” Stiles exclaims, finding a plaid shirt. He's pretty sure if he ignores the yellow fish on one of the pairs of jeans, he can have a pretty decent outfit.  
  


“I'm not even a little surprised,” Derek says, rolling his eyes.

 

******************************************

“What are you doing?” Derek asks, irritated.  
  


“Nothing.”  
  


“You've been wriggling for more than half an hour,” Derek points out.  
  


They've spent the morning watching DVDs and so far it’s turned out to be less of a disaster than Stiles expected a whole day with Derek to go.  
  


“It's just...” Stiles says, blushing. He wriggles a little more, groaning.  
  


“Stiles, what?” Derek insists, exasperated.  
  


“I need...I need to pee, okay?”  
  


“So?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  


“It's just...I can't....I....,” Stiles stops talking, cheeks bright red. “Nevermind,” he finally says, climbing off the couch.  
  


It's not 10 minutes later when Derek starts hearing suspicious noises coming from the bathroom. He frowns, thinking nothing of it, but the constant splashing noises eventually cause him to investigate.  
  


When he arrives at the bathroom, the door isn't locked and Stiles has fallen into the toilet.  
  


“Not a word,” tiny-Stiles threatens with a glare. His legs are stuck in the air while his rear is entirely engulfed in the toilet bowl, arms hanging on either side of the porcelain bowl.  
  


Derek nods, miming zipping his mouth before turning away to go back to the living room.  
  


“What? Wait, wait!”  
  


Derek smirks, reappearing at the door.  
  


“Yes?”  
  


“Don't....” Stiles says, discomfited. “Don't be an asshole, please?”  
  


Having to be extracted from a toilet bowl sounds about as humiliating as it is, especially when you're pantless. Stiles will be eternally grateful that Derek doesn't mock him or make any comments though. He just pulls Stiles' arms until he's on his feet and hands him his pants.  
  


“Next time you need help, ask,” he says simply before going back to the living room.  
  


Stiles realizes that he could have had worse babysitter wise. He's pretty sure all of his other friends would have never let him live this down. They probably would have taken pictures too.  

  
  


**********************************************

Derek glares when Stiles pokes him in the cheek. He's standing on the couch, which makes him about as tall as Derek sitting down, and he has been jumping up and down for twenty minutes. His cheeks are rosy from exertion, his hair in disarray and Derek has a hard time not thinking that Stiles used to be a cute kid. His eyes seem huge and his nose looks ridiculously tiny.  
  


“I'm hungry,” Stiles says, poking the werewolf's cheek again.  
  


“Then eat.”  
  


“I can't, the cabinets are too high and the fridge door is super heavy. This is hell, Derek. Hell!” Stiles announces dramatically, flopping down on the couch.  
  


“What are you even supposed to eat? Baby food?”  
  


Derek can't help but chuckle when Stiles tries to kick him in the face, but as he's lying down, his foot doesn't reach that high.  
  


“You mock my pain!” Stiles says, indignant.  
  


He crosses his arm over his chest, pouting.  
  


“You told me I should ask you when I needed help,” Stiles says, trying on his best puppy eyes. “I'm hungry, Derek.”  
  


Derek sighs. He isn't stupid, he knows he's being manipulated, but it's not like he could let the kid starve, right?  
  


“Alright,” he relents, standing up.  
  


Stiles bounces off the couch to follow him to the kitchen. Derek opens the fridge, both eyebrows raising.  
  


“So you've got the choice between...mayonnaise and a tomato.”  
  


“What?” Stiles asks, slipping between Derek and the fridge. “Oh. I may have planned to go grocery shopping after school today...”  
  


He turns toward Derek, biting his lips.  
  


“No,” Derek says firmly, sensing another puppy look coming.  
  


“But I'm hungry, Derek!”  
  


Okay, Stiles definitively didn't have that lisp two minutes ago.  
  


“Just so you know, I'm going to start charging your dad for this.”

  
  


*******************************************  
  


“No way!” Stiles shouts when Derek stops in front of a potty at Wal-Mart.  
  


“Okay, I respect your wishes,” Derek says seriously before grabbing a bag of diapers.  
  


‘Revenge is a sweet thing’, he thinks when Stiles throws the potty at him.

  
  


********************************************  
  
Stiles refused to sit into the cart – because he's not a baby and he's not appreciating the insinuation, so just stop – but after an hour trailing after Derek, he feels like his legs are made of lead.  
  


“Are we almost done yet?”  
  


“Huh?” Derek asks distractingly, looking at the shopping list Stiles made. Who knew Derek was so meticulous, they spent an hour in the produce section because Derek had to choose the best vegetable of every pile. And all organic too, because apparently he can still smell chemicals on the others. Stiles would normally be glad because that means his dad is going to eat healthier, but he can't reach anything in this store so all he can do is follow Derek and watch him fuss over salad.  
  


“I'm tireeeddd,” he whines.  
  


“Is it nap time yet?” Derek asks, mocking.  
  


“Fuck you.”  
  


He grimaces when three women and a man gasp at the same time. Okay, swearing when you look like a toddler might be a thing to avoid.

Derek flinches under the force of the glares and judgmental looks he receives though, and Stiles sees his chance.  
  


“Can I go into the cart?”  
  


“No.”  
  


“But Dereeekkk.”  
  


“It's full anyway.”  
  


“But I'm tired!”  
  


He remembers seeing kids' tantrums at the supermarket. Hell, he remembers having tantrums at the supermarket. Every kid knows that that's the best opportunity to get what they want. Parents are at their weakest there, always worried about others adults' judgment.  
  


“And you haven't even fed me yet. I'm hungry!” Stiles whines, drawing attention from the surrounding people. He can start to feel their heavy stares. .  
  


Two women are whispering, clearly talking about the awful parent that Derek is. That'll teach him for making diaper jokes.

Derek follows his gaze, sending a quick look at the people around them. Stiles knows the last thing they want is to attract attention, but the opportunity is just too good to miss.   
  
He slaps his foot on the ground, but pales when he suddenly sees a cunning glint in Derek's eyes.

  
“Alright, you know what, we're going to finish this real quick and then we're going to get some McDonald's, okay?”  
  


Stiles would be happy if it wasn't for the too sweet tone that Derek is using. It’s terrifying.  
  


“Your feet hurt?” Derek asks, crouching in front of him. His voice is sugar sweet, but there is a smirk at the corner of his mouth that Stiles doesn't like. At all.  
  


“Yes,” he responds, distrustful. He can practically hear the women coo at the handsome man handling the small child. Damn it, he's losing control of the situation, fast.  
  


“It's alright, come here.”  
  


Before Stiles can respond, he's being lifted and smashed against Derek's torso. He thinks about kicking and screaming like he's taken to do every time someone tries to do this to him, but with people around, it wouldn't make sense. He glares up at Derek instead, discreetly pinching the skin of his stomach as hard as he can....which isn't a lot since he could barely grab any loose skin over all those muscles to start with.

Derek grins victoriously before grabbing the cart with the other hand and leaving the aisle, no doubt listening to the praise of the women as they go.  
  


“You owe me McDonald’s,” Stiles grumbles.

  
And if he doesn't insist on being put down once they're out of sight of the judgmental league...Well, his feet do hurt and it will be faster this way. It's pragmatic, that's all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support, I hope you'll keep liking this story!
> 
> I'll try to post at least one chapter a week (probably on the weekend) so you don't have to wait too long for the next part. You can also read this story [on tumblr](http://castielific.tumblr.com/).

He falls asleep on their way back from McDonald’s - where Derek tries to be mean by buying a Happy Meal, but Stiles loves Happy Meals so joke’s on him -, but when he wakes up, he’s in his bed. Derek even tucked him in and took his shoes off. Somehow he isn’t as surprised as he should be. He always knew Derek was hiding a gooey chocolate center under all those muscles and offensive eyebrows.

The werewolf even installed the kid toilet seat they settled on and put a step in front of the sink so that Stiles can go to the bathroom without any more disaster.

When he gets downstairs, he finds Derek and Lydia sitting on opposite sides of the couch, cradling mugs of coffee. Stiles wondered if Derek played host and made coffee or if Lydia did it. Or how long they’ve been like this, waiting for Stiles to wake up, because the atmosphere is frosty.  
Have they ever been alone in the same room before? Except, you know, the time Lydia used Derek against his will to resuscitate his evil uncle. Alright, this must be awkward.  
  
As soon as she sees him, Lydia jumps to her feet, depositing her mug on the coffee table.

“Hey, Lydia,” he waves before climbing the couch to have a seat next to Derek.

“I’m bringing you your homework,” Lydia says, getting the papers out of her handbag.

“Oh joy,” Stiles groans, making Derek scoff. He isn’t looking forward to homework. It was hell just writing the shopping list because he couldn’t hold the pen correctly with his pudgy fingers. Lydia doesn’t seem happy with his answer though, and he hurries to correct himself. “I mean. Thanks, Lydia, that’s nice of you.”

She nods, satisfied with his response, before getting a shopping bag from behind the couch.

“Seriously, more clothes?” Stiles exclaims. “You already bought me enough clothes to last until I’m like five years old!”

Wow, that’s something he never thought he would say.

“This one is special,” she explains, placing the package on his lap and squeezing between him and the edge of the couch. “I saw it earlier and I couldn't resist,” she says with a cheeky grin.

Stiles frowns, sensing a joke at his expense coming. When he opens the bag though, he can’t help but cackle, because it’s a hoodie and it’s perfect.

It’s soft looking and grey, with two pointy ears on the hood and a fluffy tail hanging from the back. Derek scowls seeing it and Stiles immediately loves it.

“I love it!” He exclaims, abandoning his plaid shirt to put it on. It also fits perfectly. He jumps off the couch, putting on the hood and wiggling his butt to make the fluffy wolf tail move.

“That’s so cute!” Lydia says, laughing at Stiles’ antics. Stiles can’t help but flush a little though, because who knew Lydia Martin would say that about him.

Derek is looking at him like his outfit is personally offending him.

Whatever, Stiles is cute.

 

*****************************************  
  
Derek is gone as soon as the Sheriff is in the driveway, but the next day when Stiles wakes up, the werewolf is already waiting for him on the couch. A glass of orange juice and a bowl of milk are waiting for Stiles on the breakfast table, too. But that’s probably his dad’s doing. Yeah. Definitively his dad.

He settles on the couch with his laptop while Derek reads and it’s strangely domestic. They don’t talk much, but it’s comfortable.

He types some of his homework before getting distracted by research on witches and de-aging, but all he finds is fanfiction...which he ends up reading, just to be thorough.

They eat PB&J for lunch and Stiles passes out shortly after that. His body apparently has the same needs as a toddler’s, but his mind is definitively his, which means he wakes up screaming, flashbacks of gore and nogitsune still fresh in mind. He struggles for a moment before he realizes that he’s awake, painful memories fading as he understands that he’s safe.

He blinks his eyes open to a vision of stubble, but neither he nor the werewolf comment on the fact that he’s sitting on Derek’s lap, strong arms around his chest. He lays his forehead under the other man’s chin until he feels like he can breathe normally again, until Allison’s face isn't behind his eyelids every time he blinks.

“I need to get out of here,” he says after a while. He feels like there are ants crawling under his skin, all of his muscles twitching with the need to move. He’s not sure if it’s the whole energy of a kid thing or if it’s because he can’t take his Adderall anymore, but he feels like screaming and running.

He’s not sure how they end up on the playground at the park but he doesn't give it a second thought, running straight for the jungle gym.

Let’s be honest here, if they made jungle gyms for adults, people would be all over it.

It’s only a few minutes later, when he climbs on the roof and tries to jump on the slide that he realizes why they don’t make those. Adults - and especially teenagers - are reckless. He ends up with both knees and his forearm bleeding, but he doesn't even care as he goes back up the slide and straight for the rings. He jumps from one to another better than he ever did as a kid - or an adult, to be honest - because he has the dexterity of an adult with the light weight of a toddler and it’s _awesome_.

He doesn't know how long he runs around, but eventually Derek’s arm around his waist snatches him right off from where he’s hanging upside down.

“But I want to stay here!” Stiles whines. He wriggles but Derek doesn’t let him go and before he knows it they’re in front of the car. “You’re such a party pooper,” Stiles sulks when Derek virtually throws him on the back seat.

  
The werewolf doesn’t even deign respond as they drive back to the house.

 

********************************************  
  
“Can we go back there tomorrow?” Stiles asks. He’s sitting on the closed toilet lid as Derek takes care of his bleeding knees. He’s scratched them pretty bad, but it’s not like they’re not going to heal, and he’s had way worse. Derek is making a fuss about it though.

“You remember you’re not actually a toddler, right?” Derek says, sounding really doubtful.

“Of course, I know,” Stiles responds, rolling his eyes. “But did you see me out there? It was awesome!”

Derek frowns, worry lines marring his forehead, but Stiles doesn't care, already thinking of ways to convince the werewolf to bring him to the amusement park tomorrow. It opened when he was twelve - just over the age limit - and he had been so mad that he never got to try all those fun looking games at the time. Now is his chance!

 

*******************************  
  
“Do we have any news from Deaton?” Derek asks later, on the phone with Scott. He sends a quick glance to the living room where Stiles is sitting on the couch, focused on the TV.

“No, still nothing. Is Stiles okay? I meant to come after school, but we have this huge project in Chemistry to finish for Fri-”

“I’m not sure,” Derek responds, ignoring Scott’s rambling about school.

“What do you mean?” Scott says, suddenly serious.

“I’m not sure.”

“Derek!”

“I just... Nevermind. Stiles has always been immature, maybe it’s just weird because he actually looks like the age he’s acting like now.”

“So... He’s okay?” Scott asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah,” Derek says, watching Stiles chewing the corner of a pillow. “I guess.”

 

****************************************  
  
The Sheriff insists that Derek stay for dinner that night. So now they’re sitting at the table, watching Stiles eat salad with his fingers.

“Stiles, use your cutlery,” the Sheriff reprimands. Stiles rapidly shove the last two leaves of salad into his mouth before sending him a toothy grin.

“I’m done. Can I go watch TV now?”

The Sheriff’s eyebrows raise. “Sure.”

Stiles doesn't waste any time, running back to the living room. The Sheriff watches him go and Derek takes his chance.

“Is he always like that?”

“I… I was wondering the same thing, actually. He used to eat everything with his hands when he was little. I thought he was messing with me but,” The Sheriff hesitates, wiping his brow. “Do you think he could be…”

“Regressing?”

The Sheriff closes his eyes like he didn't want to hear that word.

“I’m not sure,” Derek confess. “He still talks and acts like himself, but there are some things...Maybe it’s nothing,” Derek finishes, seeing the worry on Stiles’ dad’s face.

To be honest, he’s never spent that much time with Stiles outside of life or death situations. They might have considered themselves friends in the end, but they never actually hang out or talk that much. He wasn't the best judge in this situation. How could he tell if Stiles was acting differently when he wasn't even sure how Stiles acts normally?  
  
He really hopes Stiles is just an immature guy using this excuse to be even more immature.

Yeah, that does sound like the Stiles he knows.

“Do we have any news yet?” The Sheriff asks.

“No. But I was thinking of going to the parking lot where Stiles says he met this witch. Her scent is probably gone, but maybe that’s a place she visits regularly.”

“You think you can find her?”

“Magic has a special scent. If she’s there or if she’s been there recently enough, maybe I can try to track her.”

“What will you do if you find her?”

Derek pauses. To be honest, he has no idea. She might be a witch, but he’s not in the habit of attacking old people.

“Listen, I may not be pleased with the situation. Especially so soon after…” The Sheriff swallows and Derek nods to indicate that he doesn't have to say it. The nogitsune is still fresh in everyone’s mind, the last thing Stiles - or his dad - needed was to be the victim of another supernatural creature. “But we have no way to say if there was malicious intent here.”

“Unless he actually is turning into a real three years old.”

“I don’t know,” the Sheriff says, looking pensively in the direction of the living room. “After all he’s been through... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad for him to forget certain things.”

“Not if he forgets who he is,” Derek argues. He’s been the victim enough times to know the importance of freedom of mind.

“I know, but,” The Sheriff hesitates, piling up their dirty plates. “If you had the choice to start over. If you could forget every bad thing that ever happened to you, get your innocence back, a new chance at life... Wouldn't you?”

Derek isn't sure how to answer that. So he doesn't.  


 ********************************************

The next day, Stiles' dad works the night shift so they spend the day together. They watch some TV, play a few rounds of chess and then his dad gets all nostalgic and proposes a game of catch. Stiles can’t throw very far with his little arms which frustrates him a lot, but it’s still the best time he’s had with his dad in a while.

   
********************************************

He spends the night at the McCalls’ because Scott and Isaac have a lot of homework to do, but Melissa doesn't work that night. She coos over him, but she makes macaroni and cheese and hot chocolate, so Stiles tolerates it, ignoring Isaac’s mocking glances when Stiles lets her put him on her lap. She’s feeding him chocolate strawberries, so he would do a headstand if he had to.

  
They sit around the coffee table with their homework afterward, Stiles doing the science project with the boys so he still gets to put his name on the sheet. With Stiles’ help, they finish it early - those guys are hopeless in Chemistry, seriously - so they settle down to watch Game of Thrones for a while. Isaac keeps shoving him off the couch with his foot, until Stiles gets enough of it and put two pillows on the coffee table as a makeshift couch. Isaac has never seen Game of Thrones so Stiles makes a point of purposely obscuring his view of the screen every time something interesting is about to happen. Scott laughs at their antics between text messaging Kira.

   
*************************************************

Scott is surprised when he opens the door the next morning and Derek is standing on his porch.

“I thought the Sheriff was coming to get him?”

“He just got off work, he needs his sleep,” Derek says, shrugging.

“And you don’t mind playing the babysitter?”

Derek shrugs again.

“Where is he?” He asks.

“Still sleeping,” Scott indicates, pointing to the couch where Stiles is curled up hugging a pillow - _his_ pillow, apparently - to his chest. “We went to bed kinda late last night. Want me to wake him up? I’ve got to leave for school in 10 anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Derek walks to the couch before catching Stiles under the armpits and hauling him to his hip.

“Are you crazy? He’s gonna kill you, he hates it when we do that!” Scott hisses, his eyes wide with  panic.

Stiles lifts his head up from Derek’s shoulder, blinking up as he looks around him and Scott cringes. Stiles rubs at his eyes for a second, before curling a hand into Derek’s shirt and resting his head on the werewolf’s shoulder, settling back to sleep.

“What the hell?” Scott whispers.

Derek doesn't answer, but Scott’s pretty sure the tips of his ears just turned red. He balances Stiles as he takes the pillow under his other arm. Isaac chooses this moment to enter the room, rolling his eyes when he sees Stiles cuddling up in Derek’s arms.

“You guys are weird,” he says before shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.

“Call me if you get any news from Deaton,” Derek says before disappearing out of the door, a sleeping Stiles in his arms.

“How come he lets _him_ pick him up?” Scott whines.

Isaac scoffs.

“You seriously have to ask?”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m bored,” Stiles whines. His head is hanging off the edge of the couch as he stares at the ceiling.

“We’re not doing it,” Derek repeats for the tenth time.

“Come on, it will be fun!”

Derek doesn’t respond. To be honest, he’s bored too.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Stiles swears.

Oh and what the hell.

********************************* 

  
The Sheriff wakes up at two o’clock that afternoon to screams.

He’s out of the bed, gun in hand and running to the living room before he’s even totally awake.

He stops halfway down the steps though, blinking at what’s happening in front of him.

Stiles is wearing bright blue overalls with a red T-shirt underneath. The fact that he’s wearing overalls is weird enough, but what takes the cake is that Derek is whirling him around the room by said overalls.

The Sheriff can’t help but chuckle because his son is posing like he’s Superman, one arm in front of him. He’s laughing and screaming each time Derek swings him a little too close to an object. The werewolf smiles each time he manages to scare the toddler-like teenager by feigning that Stiles will hit  a wall or a lamp before veering him to the side.

The Sheriff watches them for a few minutes, torn between wanting to laugh and worrying for everyone’s sanity, before he decides to let them be. He hasn’t seen his son laugh like that in way too long, and he’s pretty sure he’s never seen Derek smiling and acting as carefree as he is now. They both need to have as much fun as they can.

The Sheriff turns around and goes back to bed, hoping he’ll be able to catch at least one more hour of sleep before he has to go to work again.

 

**********************************  
  
He opens his eyes 45 minutes later, giving up on sleep. He showers and puts on his uniform. He doesn’t have to be at work for three more hours, but he might go in earlier to help out. If they were understaffed before, after the nogitsune’s massacre, they were barely holding it together now. For some odd reason, nobody is applying to the numerous job postings at the Sheriff’s Department that has been attacked twice and bomb once in the last year.

The house is silent and when he comes down to the living room, he just rolls his eyes with a little smile.

Derek is lying on the couch, fast asleep and Stiles is sprawled over his chest, the werewolf’s hand on his back ensuring Stiles’ safety, preventing him from sliding off and hitting the floor.

The Sheriff knows they will have to have a talk because he’s not sure how he feels about his son cuddling a 26 year old werewolf.

He knew Derek cared about his son, his devotion and determination to save him from the nogitsune more than proved it, but he isn’t sure what is going on anymore between those two. Yeah, they will have to talk. Later.

For now he’s more worried about that fact that Stiles is sucking his thumb because he hasn’t done that since he was four and that worries his dad.

What if his son is stuck like that? What if he really is regressing? What if he forgets about werewolves, nogitsune, kanima and all the horrors he had to live through?

Looking at Stiles seeming so young and innocent right now, the Sheriff can’t think that it would be a bad thing.

But what if Stiles forgets who he is? What if he grows up to be a different person?

The Sheriff has nearly lost his son too many times in the past year, he can’t imagine a life without Stiles’ antics with Scott, without his loud mouth and tons of random facts.

He loves his son more than anything in the world. His son is everything for him.

He wants what’s best for him, he’s just not sure what it is at the moment.

 

**************************************

Derek growls as he wakes up. There’s a weight on his stomach and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Stiles is using him as a makeshift couch.

He still opens them and, sure enough, Stiles is sitting on his stomach, watching TV. The werewolf rubs his eyes. He spent last night driving around town with the windows open, trying to catch the scent of magic, but in vain. He definitely needed that nap.

“We’re having pizza night with the pack,” Stiles announces from his perch on Derek.

“Great. Get off me,” he growls.

“But you’re so comfyyyy,” Stiles pouts, bouncing a little.

“You weigh a ton,” Derek grumbles.

“No, I don’t,” Stiles scoffs. To be honest, he definitely doesn’t, he’s barely 30 pounds.

“You’re chubby.”

“Take that back!” Stiles says indignantly.

He turns toward Derek, and the werewolf catches his feet before he can put them in his face. Stiles wriggles to free himself, before changing tactics and using Derek’s hold against him, raising up and letting himself fall back on Derek’s stomach, hard. Derek loses his breath for a second, air forced out of his lungs by Stiles’ weight.

It makes him release the other boy’s feet and Stiles doesn’t waste any time getting away. He must have a death wish though, because he decides to stand on Derek with a victorious smile. He even jumps up and down a few times, feet landing in uncomfortable places.

Derek just catches him around the hips, intending to throw him in the direction of the armchair, when someone clears their throat. They both freeze and turn toward the kitchen, Stiles hanging in midair above Derek.

The Sheriff is standing there. His eyes are disapproving, but there’s a badly hidden smile on his face.

“No fighting, boys,” he lightly reprimands.

Derek carefully puts Stiles on the ground next to the couch, and the Sheriff can’t help but chuckle, because the werewolf looks mortified to have been seen like that, ears pink and face contrite.

The Sheriff decides here and then that their serious talk can wait. He’s pretty sure that any mention of his relationship with his son would make Derek retreat into his grumpy and distant shell and that’s not what Stiles’ dad wants.

That boy definitively needs to have fun more often.

 

*********************************************  
  
“You need a haircut,” Lydia says, tutting disapprovingly as she passes a hand through his hair.

They’ve eaten pizza and now the whole pack is watching a movie. Stiles is cuddling up to Lydia - because he can - , his feet on Scott’s lap, as she caresses his allegedly too long hair.

To prove her point, she brings all his hair to the front and, yeah okay, it totally covers his eyes. When he was in his normal body, he used to style his hair with lots of gel, but in this toddler body that just looks weird so he lets it do its own thing...which means it’s really messy. His hair has a finer texture, it’s more curly and he remembers that it’s just the start - he had the worse hair when he was around 13 what with the random curls and at least four cowlicks. It was hell.

“I think it’s cute,” Kira pipes up from where she’s snuggled next to Scott. She thinks everything is cute, which can be both endearing and irritating.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Lydia decides. And that’s that, because her tone suggests that he shouldn’t even try to say no.

Stiles manages to stay awake for the first movie, but when they put on a second one around 11pm, he just knows that it’s asking his little body way too much.

“Derek,” he calls sleepily. “Can I have my pillow?”

The werewolf simply nods before getting up from the armchair he’d claimed. Kira, Scott, Lydia and Stiles are a tight fit on the couch, leaving Isaac the other armchair.

Stiles frowns when he can feels four pairs of eyes on him.

“What?”

He doesn’t like the smirk on Isaac’s face, and Scott is looking at him like he’s trying to figure him out - and Stiles can practically see smoke coming his ears with the effort.

He sends a confused look to Lydia and she answers with a raise of an eyebrow, caressing his cheek.

“You’re doing right, sweety. Got to tame them before you ride them.”

The others burst out laughing and Stiles decides he doesn’t like them anymore.

When Derek comes back, confused at the laughing fit going on, Stiles takes his pillow and climb on the werewolf’s lap. He turns toward the TV, leans against Derek’s chest and hugs his pillow to his chest, determined to ignore the mocking looks and giggles.

He falls asleep before they’ve even stopped laughing, Derek’s hand absentmindedly stroking his back, soothing him. He barely cringes when Kira lets out another “it’s so cute!” when he curls up in Derek’s arms; already well on his way to dreamland.

 

************************************************  
  
“I’m not getting a douchebag haircut!” Stiles yells, jumping out of the hairdresser’s chair.

He’s just fed up with all this. Lydia brought him to four shops before they came to the hairdresser, forcing him to try on ridiculous things, and now she wants him to get this horribly stylish haircut and just NO. He’s putting his foot down. His feet are down.

It’s his life, his fucking hair, and he’s not a goddamn doll!

He ignores her protest as he runs the hell out of there. He can hear her call after him and her heels clicking behind him, but he just runs faster. He just wants to be home. No. He wants his body. His real body. It’s been a week and Deaton is still as useless as ever, no closer to finding a way to get Stiles to turn the fuck back. He’s done with being babysat, and mocked, and not being able to take a fucking piss like a normal person. He just want to be alone for a while, without people hovering like he’s a friggin baby.

When he stops running, out of breath, Lydia is nowhere to be seen. She may be taller these days, but even she can’t run forever in Louboutins.

He looks around and smiles when he recognizes the neighbourhood as the one where the park he went to the other day was. It’s drizzling rain so no one should be there and he can be in peace for a while.

He puts on his wolfy hood and runs to the park. As expected it’s empty and he climbs in the jungle gym’s castle to get out of the rain that’s pouring heavily now.

 

***********************************

By the time he stops sulking, the rain has stopped and the sun is disappearing in the horizon. Now that he’s calmed down, it doesn’t take long for Stiles to realise how foolish he has been. He’s miles from home, nobody knows where he is and he doesn’t have his phone. It’s not like he could just take the bus home either, since he looks like he’s too young for preschool, let alone to be traveling around town on his own.

He climbs down the castle and looks around.

He doesn’t know if he wants to cry in relief or stomp his foot when he sees a black Camaro parked on the other side of the street.

When he gets to the car, Derek is calmly sitting in the driving seat, reading a book. Stiles climbs into the passenger seat, glaring when Derek looks like he wants to tell him to sit in the back. Derek closes his mouth, putting his book away and turning on the engine.

“How long have you been there?”

“About 10 minutes after Lydia called me in a panic.”

Stiles doesn’t know how to answer that. He doesn’t like the fact that he was still somehow being babysat, or that Derek can find him so fast, but at the same time, he’s glad that at least his dad didn’t worry himself sick at Stiles’ disappearance.

“To whom do I owe an apology to then?”

“To whomever you feel like apologizing to,” Derek answers simply.

“It was stupid and reckless, I’m so-”

“But not to me,” Derek stops him.

When Stiles looks at him in surprised, Derek elaborates.

“I get it. You needed some time alone, I can understand that.”

“I’m not sure Lydia would see it that way,” Stiles grimaces, anticipating the temperamental girl’s reaction.

“She was really worried. She’ll get over it.”

Stiles doesn’t answer. He kind of feels like hugging - or at least thanking - the werewolf because who knew that grumpy guy could be so comforting, but he’s not sure that Derek would take it well.

“Now put your damn seatbelt on,” Derek orders, glaring at the way Stiles is sitting crossed legged.

“Make me,” Stiles grins. The atmosphere in the car is instantly lighter.

Derek rolls his eyes, but a small smile raises the corner of his lips. They both know that Derek could take on Stiles one handed even when he wasn’t looking like a three year old. Their banter is their dynamic though, and as long as it’s there, Stiles doesn’t feel like he’s any different than before.

 

*******************************************

“Why are you doing all this?” Stiles asks as Derek runs him a bath because Stiles can neither reach the faucet nor the showerhead.

The werewolf scowls as if he has just been insulted, but he still adds the bubble bath to the water without Stiles having to ask. The boy wonders if Derek even realizes what he’s doing.

“You’re being awfully nice and it’s kind of freaking me out,” Stiles admits as Derek gets the towels from the top shelf and puts them where Stiles can reach. “Look at you!” Stiles exclaims.

Derek frowns.

“You don’t want me to do these things?”

“I...I mean, it’s nice. But you’re not supposed to be nice.”

“Why not?” Derek asks and he looks really confused. 

“Because...Because you’re Derek!” Stiles says, getting frustrated.

Derek looks at him for a second and Stiles doesn’t like what he sees in those hazel eyes, because it feels like he’s hurt Derek’s feeling or something.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Derek says before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Stiles feels like an asshole.

 

**************************************************  
  
Stiles pads into the living room in his pajamas, wearing the fluffy slippers the girls bought him. He’s not above using his physique to his advantage.

“Are you mad?” He asks as he spots Derek standing next to the window, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t turn toward him, barely react to his presence.

“Why should I be?”

Stiles roll his eyes, posting himself next to Derek. He sends a look through the window but there’s nothing out there.

“Oh, come on, you know why.”

Derek doesn’t answer.

“I’m sorry that was super rude and you didn’t deserve it,” Stiles forces himself to say.

Derek scoffs.

“I don’t care, Stiles.”

“But that’s the thing, you do care.”

“You don’t want me to?” Derek asks, sending him a quick look.

“I just...I didn’t know you did, that’s all,” Stiles admits sheepishly.

“I spent the last two years protecting you and your friends. The last few months…” Derek doesn’t continue, sighing instead.

“Yeah but I thought...I don’t know what I thought,” Stiles shakes his head, leaning his weight against the werewolf’s leg. “I just never thought you cared about me,” he says, softer. He knows Derek will hear him anyway.

“And you’re supposed to be the smart one,” Derek says, as if to himself.

  



	5. Chapter 5

“Derek, hold me up, I’m going to punch him in the face,” Stiles says angrily, glaring at Isaac. 

Derek just rolls his eyes. 

“Oh come on, don’t be such a baby,” Isaac mocks - which is pretty much all he’s been doing all afternoon. All week. 

“Isaac…” Derek warns. They’ve been bickering for what feels like hours and it’s really getting on Derek’s nerves. They were supposed to be here to think about ways to find the witch, but so far they haven’t been productive at all. 

“Just saying, a kid has to have friends his own age,” Isaac shrugs, a smirk at the corner of his lips. 

“I am not going to kindergarten,” Stiles rages. 

He pauses for a second, which is why no one sees it coming when he goes right for Isaac’s shin and bites him. The other boy jerks his leg out of reflex, but between Isaac’s werewolf’s strength and Stiles light weight, his little body goes flying, slamming into the wall. 

In the next second, Derek is on Isaac with a roar and Scott catches his shoulders just in time to avoid his teeth ripping into Isaac’s neck. He stills struggles against Scott’s hold, trying to get claws at Isaac’s stomach, face completely changed and eyes glowing. Isaac jumps back, looking at him with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Ow,” Stiles says, sitting up and rubbing his arm that made contact with the wall. 

Derek sends Scott flying and Isaac jumps to his feet intending to run away, but the werewolf completely bypasses him, going straight for Stiles. He cradles the little boy in his arms, turning his back on the others. 

“Huh. Guys?”Stiles calls out when the beta starts nosing at his neck frantically with what sounds like whimpers. “What’s happening?”

Scott takes a step toward them, worried about the fact that Derek doesn’t seem to be himself, but a flash of blue eyes and a menacing growl stops him. 

“Oh great, now Derek thinks he’s his mommy,” Isaac sighs. He flinches though when even Scott glares at him. 

 

*******************************************

It takes nearly half an hour for Derek to calm down enough to come back to himself. He looks embarrassed about his lost of control, confused about his own reaction, but he still won’t release Stiles, keeping an hold on him and looking like he’s ready to jump - or bite - anyone that dares to approach. 

“It’s a perfectly normal reaction,” Deaton reassures. They called him when Derek tried to bite his Alpha’s hand when Scott reached for Stiles. “Although, I would have expected it from Scott, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“When someone in the pack is hurt, it’s instinct for the Alpha to look out for them more than usual. Stiles is somehow incapacitated right now, more vulnerable, it makes sense that you would want to protect him,” Deatons says, looking at Scott. His eyebrows are furrowed though, and that’s never a good sign.

“But?”

“It’s the Alpha’s place to defend the weak werewolves, and other pack mates aren’t supposed to be a threat. Except when…” Deaton continues, taking a moment to reflect on what he’s going to say. “There are some cases where a weak pack member can cause inner conflict and violence in the pack. If the wolf’s vulnerability interferes with the pack’s security, it can cause conflict between the ones that want to protect him and the ones that would prefer getting rid of him to protect the pack as a whole,” Deaton explains, sending a quick look toward Stiles who is struggling against Derek, who doesn’t seem ready to let him go, holding him plastered to his side on the couch. There is progress through, because when the veterinarian arrived, Derek was still crushing Stiles against his chest despite the toddler-look-alike’s loud protests. It will take a while for Derek’s instincts to settle, still raw from having lost control.

“What is the other case?” Scott asks, grimacing as he can’t see this one applying to them. It’s not like Isaac wanted to hurt Stiles, they were just bantering. 

“They are two things that can make a wolf overly protective of another packmate, that would make them threaten the stability of the pack or even go against their Alpha’s authority,” Deaton takes a deep breath, looking over each person to see their reaction. “And it’s whether they’re protecting their cub... or their mate,” he says, not being able to keep a straight face as Scott looks very confused, Isaac rolls his eyes and Lydia nods like she had already figured that out. 

“What?” Stiles exclaims, gaping. “I’m not your fucking offspring you deranged beast!” He says, slapping uselessly at Derek’s arms around him. 

Derek doesn’t let go, frowning intently as he reflects on what Deaton’s just said. 

“I don’t think of Stiles as my cub,” he says after a moment. His face is so crunched up that Deaton can’t help but chuckle. 

“I never implied that you did,” the veterinarian says with a smirk, watching the confusion settle even more.

“That still doesn’t tell us why someone would want to change Stiles into a toddler in the first place,” Lydia notes after a moment of silence, sounding exasperated at her friends’ obliviousness. 

“The research I’ve done shows that this kind of spell either is temporary or depends on the bewitched’s will.”

“So Stiles just has to want to change back?” Scott says, scrunching up his nose and sending a suspicious look toward his friend. 

“What? You think I’m enjoying this? I’ve wanted to change back from the start!” Stiles protests. 

“So we just have to wait,” Derek notes, looking reassured. 

“Not exactly. The will needed can be more specific than that. In the cases that I’ve found, it mostly implies benevolent witches wanting to teach a lesson to someone.”

“But I was super nice to her!” Stiles protests again. 

“So it might have been done as a favor.”

“I still say we find and kill the witch,” Isaac contributes finally. 

“We’re not killing anyone,” Scott protests with a hard look. 

“How is this a favor?” Stiles asks, gesturing to Derek’s arms plastered around his chest, keeping him firmly on the werewolf’s lap. 

“I can think of some ways,” Lydia reflects, with a sly glint in her eyes. 

 

********************************************

“Can you let me go now?” Stiles complains later. 

Derek stops squeezing him, and it seems to take some effort but eventually Stiles is hanging from his extended arms. 

“Not sure I can do more than that,” Derek grimaces. 

Stiles wriggles his feet in the air. 

“This is worse.”

“Sorry,” Derek says self-deprecatingly. 

“It’s okay, not your fault, buddy,” Stiles concedes with a sigh, stretching his arms in an invitation for Derek to bring him closer. “We do need to have a talk once I’m back to my normal self, though,” Stiles says once he’s settled back against Derek’s shoulder. “Or we could just go straight to making out.”

Stiles lets out a squeak when Derek nearly drops him in surprise.


	6. Chapter 6

“What are you doing?” The Sheriff asks when he comes into the living room to a strange sight - and the fact that he wants to say ‘another one’ isn’t reassuring.  
  


 “He’s training. I’m bored,” Stiles announces, popping an M&M in his mouth. He’s sitting on Derek’s back as the werewolf does push-ups. He’s pretty sure that his contribution to Derek’s training regimen is useless since Derek looks like he can barely feel his weight, but it has the advantages of both annoying Derek and giving Stiles a great view of his ass as he moves. Also, he can feel the muscles of Derek’s back move under him and that’s doing all kind of things to his imagination. God, he misses his dick.  
  


 His father shakes his head like he’s not sure if he should be surprised at his son’s antics or just let it go and stop asking for explanations. Those never help much anyway.  
 

Stiles squeals when Derek starts to get up, grabbing onto the other man’s shoulders just in time not to fall. The M&M’s go flying though and his dad is starting to look pissed. Derek groans when Stiles’ little arms start to strangle him as the boy struggles to stay on the werewolf’s back.  


“Not cool, man!” Stiles protests, slapping Derek’s shoulder as best as he can without falling.  


Derek ignores him, going straight for his jacket laying on the couch, as Stiles hangs tight on his back. It’s not that high, but he’s waiting for a reaction.  


“What is it?” Derek asks on the phone. Stiles realizes that’s probably why he got up, hearing his phone vibrating. Stiles scrambles up Derek’s back until the phone is smashed between his cheek and Derek’s, trying to hear what whoever it is is saying. Derek groans in discomfort, but seems focused on what the person is saying on the phone. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he finally concludes. Stiles doesn’t have time to react before the werewolf sends him flying to the couch in one shake.  


“Hey!” Stiles protests before getting up and running to follow Derek who’s putting on his jacket and going for the door. “Who was it? What’s happening?”  


“I’ve got to go,” Derek says before Stiles latches onto his leg, stopping his departure. “Stiles,” the beta growls, frustrated that he can’t seem to shake off the boy gripping his leg.  


“What is it?” The Sheriff interrupts, looking concerned.  


“Isaac caught the witch’s scent. He followed her to her house.”  


“Awesome, I’m coming!” Stiles exclaims. Maybe he’ll finally get his body back.  


“No you’re not,” Derek and the Sheriff say at the same time. He sends them a half-betrayed, half-annoyed look.  
  


“Yes, I am,” he insists. “She might be able to turn me back!”  


“Or kill you. Or change you into something worse,” Derek notes.  
  


“Deaton said she was benevolent!”  


“That doesn’t change the fact that she put a spell on you without your consent. She’s obviously powerful and you’re in no way able to protect yourself right now.”  


“But-” Stiles starts protesting, but he’s cut off when Derek sends an eloquent look toward his dad.  


“Derek is right, this could be dangerous,” the Sheriff affirms.  


“When is Derek ever right?”  


The Sheriff sends him a reprimanding glare and Derek takes this as his cue to unlatch Stiles from his leg. Stiles readies himself to grab Derek’s leg again, but the werewolf puts a hand on his forehead, keeping him away. And how humiliating is that? Stiles still struggles against the grip.  
 

“I’m not staying here while you go terrorize that poor woman and make her flee forever!”  


“He does have a point,” the Sheriff grimaces. “She doesn’t know who you are, all she’ll see is a bunch of werewolves coming at her.”  


Derek sighs. Loudly.  


“If he’s coming, you’re coming, I can’t babysit and fight at the same time.”  


Stiles frowns when he sees his dad nods enthusiastically. He always makes a point of keeping his dad out of all the supernatural’s shenanigans despite the older Stilinski’s protests. The fact that his dad kind of looks victorious makes him wonder if him agreeing with Derek wasn’t just a ploy to get to come without too much of a fight. If the Sheriff can’t go, Stiles can’t go, which doesn’t leave him much of a choice.  


The Sheriff still looks at Stiles like he expects him to protest. When the teenager/toddler just glares, his dad smirks.  


“Let’s go then.”

 

******************************************  
  
“So, what’s the plan?” The Sheriff asks in the car. He’s throwing anxious look at Derek’s speedometer, like he wants to say something about the speed at which he’s driving, but also knows they have to hurry. Isaac alone with a witch can’t lead to anything good.  
  


Derek doesn’t answer and Stiles’ dad can’t tell if that’s because he thinks the Sheriff won’t like his plan or if he just doesn’t have one. The Sheriff doesn’t like any of those option, but before he can say anything, the Camaro is screeching suddenly to a stop in front of a house and Derek is jumping out of the car.  
 

The Sheriff takes two steps toward the house before he hears a knock and stops, rolling his eyes. Apparently, Derek put on the backdoors’ child safety lock and Stiles can’t open the door himself.  
  
The Sheriff hesitates.  
  


Maybe he should leave Stiles in the car? Derek was right when he said that Stiles was vulnerable like this and he doesn’t want to put his son in danger.  
  


On the other hand, the suburban house they’re in front of, with its rose bushes and porch swing doesn’t look like the den of an evil creature.  
  


Before he can make up his mind, Stiles has slid into the front seat and exited by the passenger side door. Stiles gives him a disapproving glare as he passes him, like he knows what his dad was thinking, and the Sheriff shrugs.  
  


He still hurries to his son’s side, hand on his gun holster, ready to shoot anyone that even looks threatening.  
  


They both stop abruptly when they run into the living room because this scene is nothing like they were expecting.    
  


Isaac and Scott are sitting on a flowery couch, holding tiny tea cups and looking at them with big eyes. Derek is a few steps in front of them, obscuring the Sheriff’s view. All he can see is the werewolf’s tense stance and the claws hanging at his side.  
  
The Sheriff tries to catch his son as he starts running toward the aggressive werewolf, but Stiles dodges him, barrelling into Derek’s legs and taking a look at what is in front of him. At least, he didn’t put himself between the aggressive looking werewolf and the enemy, the Sheriff tries to reassure himself, taking a few steps forward until his son is close enough to reach if things were to go south.  
  


“Oh it’s you!” An elderly woman’s voice says with a slight British accent. The Sheriff takes a step to the side and, indeed, Derek is growling at an eighty year old frail woman drinking tea in a pink armchair. Her knitting needles are still next to her, halfway through making a purple Peruvian hat complete with a pompom on the top.  
  


Sheriff Stilinski is very confused.  
  


“Look how cute you are!” The woman continues. “And you find yourself a worthy bodyguard too. I could tell you were a smart kid,” she notes. “Now you and your friends sit down while I go take out the biscuits out of the oven,” she invites, getting up and completely ignoring Derek’s growling and posturing as she sidesteps him to go to the kitchen.  
  


“What the hell, guys?” Stiles asks, turning toward the two others werewolves. Isaac shrugs before taking a sip from his tiny teacup. He even raises his small finger as he does it, which looks ridiculous.

   
“It’s okay. She said she wasn’t evil,” Scott explains.  
  


“Oh if she said it then… “ Derek says, looking like he wants to strangle the two idiots.  
  


“I have to say this isn’t what I expected evil to look like,” the Sheriff says, dubious.  
  


“Haven’t you learned anything from the Grimm fables? Or Disney? Old witches are always evil,” Stiles protests, flailing his arms.  
  


“Kids these days,” the witch says as she comes back with a platter of cookies, looking unperturbed even though she probably heard everything they just said. “Always trying to fight when a good talk and some sweets could solve anything.”  
  


She smiles sweetly, bringing the biscuits to Isaac and Scott as they make grabby hands for it.  
  


“Be careful, they’re still hot,” she warns, tutting when the teenagers put the cookies in their mouth anyway and rush to drink some tea to soothe their burned tongues. “You want a biscuit, my dear?” She asks Derek, hobbling toward him.  
  


“I’ve learned not to eat things offered by suspicious people,” Derek says with a heavy look toward the two teenagers. They look chastised, placing their cups on the coffee table, but Isaac’s eyes are following the platter of sweets with longing as the old woman goes back to her armchair.  
  


“That’s a sign that your parents taught you well,” she adds. “I’m sure they must have taught you some manners too, so don’t stay standing there like that, it’s rude. Come on, have a seat.” She gestures toward the other armchair and the place next to the two werewolves. Derek hesitates, scrutinizing her like he thinks she’s going to jump him.  
  


Trying to dispel the tension, the Sheriff moves to sit next to Isaac. Stiles goes to follow him, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. Derek keeps him close to his side as he goes to the armchair, his eyes not leaving the woman as she hands a cup of tea to the Sheriff who takes it politely, but doesn’t look like he intends to drink it.  
  


“So,” the woman starts. “I’ve got to say I’m surprised to see you, Stiles. When you didn’t come earlier, I thought that you had accepted my gift.”  
  


“What gift? This? How is this a gift?”  
  


She looks him over for a second.  
  


“You weren’t supposed to stay like this for so long. For that, I’m sorry, it must be very confusing, especially for your mate here.”  
  


“What do you mean, he wasn’t supposed to stay like this for so long?” The Sheriff asks. He’s trying to ignore the mate thing because he feels like that is a discussion that isn’t needed right now. Unless they intend to stay the night because he has a lot of things to ask about that. Yeah, no, he’s just going to ignore it for now, for his own sanity.  
  


“Like I explained to your son,” the witch says, sending a heavy look toward Stiles, probably understanding that the boy missed some part of what she said. “This was but a new chance at life. Your son’s soul is heavy. Heavier than it should be for a boy his age, but his heart is good. I offered him a chance to have a new start at life if he so wished.”  
  


“I’m not sure we have the same definition of ‘offered’,” Derek points out.  
  


“I gave him a choice. He could either stay like this and forget or, if he didn’t want it, change back. All he had to do was read out loud the words I gave him,” the witch explains.  
  


Which, what?  
  


“What words?” Derek says, more a growl than anything.    
  


“Oh,” the woman says, laughing a little. “That explains it then.”  
  


“You didn’t give me anything!” Stiles protests when he sees everyone’s accusing eyes turning on him.  
  


“Yes I did, my dear.”  
  


Stiles frowns, obviously thinking back to that day before his eyes go huge for a second and his face changes into a grimace.  
  


“I...huh...I thought that was a dollar, for helping you.”  
  


“You had the solution all this time and you didn’t think to check?” Derek says, looking like he’s losing patience.  
  


“I thought it was a dollar!” Stiles repeats. Derek look like he wants to put his head in his hands and reflect on all that is wrong with this world. The Sheriff can relate.  
  


“So you can change him back, right?” Scott asks, eager.  
  


“I can,” the witch says with a small smile. “But only if he wants to.”  
  


“Of course, I want to!”  
  


“But, do you?”  
  


Everyone turns toward him and the Sheriff closes his eyes for a second, realising he spoke out loud. He takes a deep breath before continuing.  
  


“This could be your chance, Stiles. We could… We could do it all over.”  
  


“What are you saying, Dad?” Stiles asks softly, looking worried and confused.  
  


“I’ve… I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you. It could be our chance to do it again. To do it better.”  
  


The Sheriff swallows around the lump in his throat. He wishes he could say that he’s been a good father to his son, but after his wife died… he hadn’t been a father for a while, too caught up in his own misery to take care of his son. His boy deserved better. He deserved a father that would put everything aside to make him happy, a father that would play with him instead of drowning himself in whisky, a father who would be there to help him with his homework instead of losing himself in his work. The Sheriff couldn’t be that dad when Stiles really needed it, but he’s better now. His son made him into a better person and the Sheriff wished he could give Stiles all that he deserved, all that he could offer him now, that he couldn’t before.

What if that was their chance? What if this was their chance to be happy?  

He doesn’t have to say it out loud though, because he knows Stiles gets it.  
  


“Dad, you don’t… ”  
  


“You’ve suffered so much, son. You deserve all the best. You deserve a normal childhood. A normal life,” he points out with a quick look toward all the supernatural creatures surrounding them.  
  


Stiles look dumbfounded, mouth opened as if he wants to say something but doesn’t know what.  
  


“He’s right, you know,” Derek says lowly. “You could do it.”  
  


Derek and Stiles look at each other for a long while and the Sheriff wonders when those two became so close that they could have a whole discussion without any words.  
  


“You can’t do that,” Scott intervenes, standing up. His hands are fists at his side, jaw locked, and eyes harder than the Sheriff has ever seen. Seeing him like this, Stiles’ dad can start to believe that this kid he’s seen in diapers could be a true Alpha. It doesn’t last long though, before the boy deflates, shoulders drooping. “I don’t want you to,” he says, voice trembling.  
  


He doesn’t have to say much more. They all know that it’s been hard for him, losing Allison was the hardest blow coming after so many kicks that had already brought him down. Nobody could blame him for not wanting to lose his best friend too.  
  


Scott sniffs a little and the next second, Stiles is hugging his friend tightly, Scott crouching to hug him back. They stay like that for a while, whispering to each other. The Sheriff doesn’t try to listen, doesn’t try to intrude. It’s his son’s choice.  
  


When Stiles steps back though, looking a little lost, the Sheriff puts a hand on his son’s cheek, forcing him to look at him.  
  


“Whatever you want to do, son,” he says, because he would never want Stiles to think that he doesn’t love him just as he is.  
  


“I… I don’t want to give up. I want to stay me.”  
  


The Sheriff nods, hugging briefly his son and sending a look at the witch who started knitting like she couldn’t be bothered, but whose eyes seem a little too moist.  
  


“We’ll be okay,” the Sheriff whispers with a reassuring smile to his son. He passes a hand through his son’s messy hair, looking over his babyish features, knowing that that’s the last time he will see them. It always made him think about Claudia, seeing Stiles like that, always transporting him back to a time when they were a family, when he felt whole and didn’t have any worries about the future. He wonders briefly if it would have been betraying her to want to start again without her. “She would have been proud, you know,” he says softly, rubbing at the patch of skin on his son’s cheek where he knows a mole will soon appear.  
  


“I don’t want to forget her. I could never want that, Dad.”  
  


“I know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says again, bringing his son against him once more, burying his nose in his tiny shoulder. Seeing him like this made him believe that he could protect him, that he could just wrap himself around his boy and keep all the bad things away, that maybe the only monsters Stiles would be scared of would be the imaginary ones under his bed, that he could make them disappear with a hug and a night light.  
  


He forgets sometimes how strong his son actually is. He forgets that he can’t beat the monsters that scare Stiles now, but if they’re together, maybe they can beat anything. He wanted to start over, but maybe they did already, because now they’re in this together. They’re at a point where they can trust each other and the Sheriff wouldn’t want to lose that for the chance of a new start.  
  


“Not to push you, dear, but I was planning on making a pot pie for dinner and I should really get to the kitchen,” the old witch says, teasing.  
  


Stiles sends a quick look to each person around him, his gaze lingering on Derek for a few seconds before he steps in front of the witch, holding his chin high.  
  


“I want to be me again.”  
  


“You’ve got it, sweetiepie. It does seem you have enough to want to keep, anyway,” she offers with a soft smile.  
  


She gets up, hobbling toward a book resting on the mantle. She opens it, before putting on reading glasses with trembling hands.  
  


They all look at her, the air heavy with anticipation.  
  


“That’s it. You should be back to your usual appearance by tonight,” she announces after murmuring to herself for a few seconds.  
  


On TV, magic is always spectacular and immediate. Here there was nothing, not even a little sparkle. The Sheriff won’t admitted that he’s disappointed, but it’s strangely anticlimactic.  
  


“Thank you!” Stiles exclaims happily. “Or not. Since you started this whole mess. But...yeah.”  
  


“Let’s go,” Derek announces, getting up from the couch, looking like he can’t get out of there fast enough.  
  


They’re all already on the porch when Isaac’s hesitant voice stops them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter. If you end up here that means you didn't give up on this story so thank you for reading!
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this and I can't thank you enough for all the feedback I got. I hope this end won't disappoint you ;-)
> 
> I'm in need of a beta, if you're interested, please send me a message on [tumblr](castielific.tumblr.com)

Children squeal in delight and Stiles looks longingly at the playground.  
  


“Maybe at night, when there is no one to-”  
  


“No. You’re too old for this, get over it,” Derek cuts off, rolling his eyes. They’ve had this conversation before. More than once.  
  


Stiles pouts.  
  


“How come he gets to go?” Stiles asks defiantly, pointing at Scott standing near the slide.  
  


“Because he won’t try to go into the castle and get stuck in it.”  
  


“Come on, that was once!” Stiles protests.  
  


“Once is already too much.”  
  


“I knew I should’ve stayed a toddler,” Stiles complains, pouting.  
  


“Do you… Do you regret it?” Derek asks, hesitant.  
  


Stiles looks at him, looks at the playground, then at Derek again.  
  


“Nah,” he says, squeezing the werewolf’s thigh.  
  


“Good. You know I didn’t really want you to stay li-”  
  


“I know. I knew. You were just being a self-sacrificing ass, as usual.”  
  


“And what exactly was I sacrificing?”  
  


“Well, you know,” Stiles says, bobbing his eyebrows, his hand sliding a little higher on Derek’s thigh.  
  


“I would have dealt with it,” Derek says, poker-faced.  
  


“Yeah, right, so that’s not why we’ve been here for three hours, then?”  
  


“I don’t know what you mean,” Derek lies, sending a glance at the playground. Scott is over by the swings now, pushing a blond haired toddler as high as he can go.  
  


Stiles just laughs, shaking his head fondly at the werewolf’s denial. He doesn’t get to say anything though, because Derek is jumping to his feet and running to the playground seconds before a high pitched scream reaches their ears.

Stiles follows him more calmly. He can hear Derek raging at a sheepish Scott from here.  
  


“Calm down, papa wolf, it’s just a scratch,” Stiles mocks.  
  


“It could have been worse!” Derek protests, cradling the little body against him. He doesn’t even seem to care about getting snot on his henley as the toddler buries his wet face into his shoulder.  
  


“And he would have healed from that, too,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and squeezing the kid’s knee where the scratch has already disappeared. “You okay there, kiddo?” He asks softly. The kid turns his head toward him, blue eyes still wet as he nods slightly. Stiles smiles softly, passing a reassuring hand through the boy’s curls.  
  


“You sure he’s okay?” Scott asks hesitantly. “I did push him too high, but I thought he was-”  
  


“He’s fine,” Stiles says over Derek’s growl. “Let’s just go home and get him to bed, he looks exhausted.”  
  


Scott nods. “Alright, you go then. We’re still up for dinner tomorrow?”  
  


“You bet,” Stiles confirms. “My dad is allowed red meat so he won’t cancel it for anything. Seriously, anything, it’s kind of scary how desperate he is.”  
  


Scott laughs before clapping him on the back and pressing a kiss to the kid’s head, keeping a wary eye on Derek who still looks pissed before running off.  
  


“Stop scowling, you got what you want. We’re Scott free for tonight, and I think this little werewolf is tired enough to let us have some well-deserved alone time.”

 

*****************************************

 

By the time they get to Derek’s loft, the kid is asleep in the backseat. Derek just has time to tuck him in bed before Stiles is jumping him. Literally. With legs around his hips, their teeth clashing together in their eagerness to kiss each other. They stumble the few steps toward Derek’s bedroom and fall into bed, only Derek’s fast reflexes stopping them from butting their heads together. Stiles huffs when Derek’s weight rests on his chest, but the werewolf ignores him, lips trailing a path from his cheeks to his collarbone.  
  


“God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Stiles sighs as Derek’s hand slips under his shirt.  
  


Derek sends him a dubious look.  
  


“Or maybe you do, actually,” Stiles concedes, gasping when he feels teeth on his shoulder.  
  


He wouldn’t say that kissing Derek was the first thing he did once he got his body back, but he wasn’t exactly an example of patience there. And maybe it wasn’t that well timed, because his dad was still there, which earned them a very very long discussion. Threats were made and even though he wasn’t especially happy about the underage thing - and the werewolf thing, his dad had some really uncomfortable questions about that - the Sheriff also conceded that if there was anyone he could trust with his son, it was Derek. The guy did save his life a few times, after all. And liked the same baseball team. So they were mostly okay.  
  


What was not okay was that it had been two weeks already and they barely got to first base. They’d tried to be alone a few times and, you know, get to business, but they always somehow get interrupted.

But that wasn’t going to happen tonight, Stiles reflects as he squeezes Derek’s ass. Nope mister, tonight his dad is on shift, Scott isn’t going to turn up at the most inappropriate time, and after three hours running around, the little werewolf should be exhausted enough that he sleeps for at least four hours straight.  
  


Or not, Stiles thinks sadly as a scream fills the loft. Derek is off him and running out of the room in less than a second, leaving Stiles frustrated and dubious he’ll ever lose his virginity. And he was just reaching second base too, hoping to round third.  
  


Derek comes back a few minutes later and Stiles deflates when he sees the toddler in his arm.  
  


He’s going to die a virgin.  
  


“ ‘tiles,” the kid says, extending his arms toward the teenager.  
  


“Hey, buddy. Another nightmare?” He says softly as Derek deposits the toddler next to him on the bed. The kid just shrugs, but seems to relax when Derek lies down on his other side, a hand on the small of his back. “It’s okay, Isaac, you’re safe now,” Stiles reassures. The child nods, cuddling against him, hand closing around his shirt as he falls back asleep.  
  


“Sorry,” Derek says softly, looking contrite. “Again.”  
  


Stiles offers him a small smile. Yes, it’s frustrating, but he gets it, he really does and if Derek wasn’t the one to relent and let Isaac sleep in his bed, Stiles would.

The witch assured them that Isaac didn’t remember anything of his past life, but he’s still adjusting, still not sure who they are and his instincts are still keeping him on edge. He’s a very anxious child, very clingy too, but he’s slowly coming to trust them and to consider Derek as his parent. Soon he will forget that he doesn’t have any memories older than two weeks, that this isn’t what life has always been like for him.  
  


“Sometimes I wonder if he remembers some things and does this just to mess with me,” Stiles confesses, looking at Isaac drooling between them.  
  


“He pees in bed and isn’t ashamed about it. He doesn’t remember,” Derek retorts.  
  


“You think he’s happier like this?” Stiles wonders.  
  


“I’ll make it so he’ll be,” Derek says with such certainty that it makes a bubble of warmth grow into Stiles’ chest. He has no doubt that Derek will do everything he can for this little boy.  
  


Isaac has never been happy, from losing his mom, his brother, his asshole of a dad, Erica, Boyd, and then falling in love with Allison only to lose her too. He never had any chance and he knew it. He was too damaged already and could not see life getting any better, which is why he asked for the spell.

But now, with Derek’s care and the pack’s love, Stiles has no doubt that Isaac is finally going to get the life that he deserved. The family that he deserved.  
  


“It’s still weird though, because I kind of hated him.”  
  


“No you didn’t.”  
  


“No. I didn’t. Just… Try to raise him to be less of an asshole, okay?”  
  


“Try yourself,” Derek says, a little challenging despite the promise hidden in his words. Because Isaac is Derek’s now, and Derek is Stiles’, for as long as he wants him - which honestly, might be forever - , so that makes Isaac Stiles’ responsibility too.  
  


“I will,” Stiles says seriously, before curling around the little boy. He drapes his arm around Isaac’s hips, just enough that his hand slips into Derek’s. “You’re going to be an awesome dad.”  
  


“You think?” Derek asks, eyebrows furrowed with worry.  
  


“Dude, I have first hand experience, remember? You’re gonna be fine.”  
  


Derek smiles, just a tiny bit at the corner, the smile that he only reserves for those he cares about and trusts enough to show his big marshmallow heart to.  
  


“We’re going to be fine,” Derek whispers, adjusting the covers on Isaac’s shoulders and squeezing Stiles’ hand.

  
Stiles hasn’t believed that for a long time. But right now, he has no doubt that it’s the truth.


End file.
